Absence Felt
by Vanessa S. Quest
Summary: Reid pops the tenth Tum that day, and Hotch finally pulls him in his office to do something about it. Angst-Ahoy!
1. Medicated and Motivated

Absence Felt Part 1 Medicated and Motivated

It had been a tense few weeks, Reid thought to himself as he bought another container of Tums, this would mark his second said purchase of the item within the past two weeks. The look he gets when he's at the counter confirms it, he'll have to find another pharmacy between home and the BAU to restock.

Entering the office, he did what was slowly becoming a hobby. He'd pop two Tums, down a coffee, take another Tums, then at the next coffee, take two more. It had been a stressful week last week, the air had seemed off…

…Losing JJ, it made sense, now that he could pinpoint where that stress seemed to originate from, and his body? It was a natural physiological response to the stress and loss. He chewed on his two Tums, glad he opted for the Berry-flavored mix.

"Reid, my office." Hotch mentions as he passes by him to hand Morgan a stack of five folders.

Reid stands, palming two more Tums and a coffee, and makes his way to Hotch's office no faster than Hotch himself does.

Inside the office, the blinds vent in some of the outside environment of the bullpen, enough to see that no less than two heads were gawking in the direction of the boss's office. Reid turned from overlooking the bullpen to looking at Hotch sitting behind his desk.

"You've been taking a lot of those lately."

"It's been a stressful two weeks." Reid defends, honestly he'd had this same conversation with himself at least a dozen times.

Hotch gives him a stern look, which doesn't seem to phase Reid as he's used to this level, he considers this the quasi-normal resting state of Hotch's eyes.

"You take them with each coffee, you drink about seven cups of coffee when you're in the office, and I know you get a coffee before you come in, at lunch, and probably when you get home. That's far above the recommended dosage."

"It gives guidelines, true, but they also have as consulted by your doctor. I am a doctor."

"Not _that_ kind. Reid, we've been _through_ this." The concern in Hotch's voice is obvious, but Reid pays it no heed.

"What do you expect from me? It's stress related, we're a man down and there's no way I'm taking personal time right now to cope, because you know as well as I do that it won't help if I'm not here doing my job."

Hotch crosses his arms. "JJ left last week, you already owned up to this going on for two weeks. Have you even seen your physician?"

"The office was tense that whole week. Don't penalize me for being good at my job. I don't want to get demoted to the Department of Homeland Defense." Reid knew it was a low hit, the contact was solid though. "If that's all…?"

"It's not. Sit down and tell me what's going on. It isn't normal, and it isn't normal for you. Even when Gideon left you didn't react like this."

"When Gideon left…" Reid almost wanted to mention how he was still too afraid to take aspirin in fear of getting hooked on pain killers thanks to his bout with dilaudid and NA meetings. He bit his lower lip, worrying at it to keep the words inside and firmly planted on his tongue. "It's duly noted that you're feeling concerned for my well-being. Thank you, can I get back to work now?"

That had been his mistake, to ask a question instead of pose a conditional clause.

"No, you can't. I'm not finished speaking with you on this matter. It's obvious you aren't at your best and I'm worried about you, and I'm not the only one. The last thing we need right now is to find out you're neglecting your health and suddenly collapse on the field. What do you suppose that would do for morale of the unit?"

Reid rolled his eyes, "Saying it seems to happen at a rather steady frequency for work-related incident? Probably not as big of a deal as you'd expect."

"We're not talking about work hazards, this is a manageable health issue. I'm telling you as a courtesy, as a concerned friend, to go get yourself checked out by a practicing licensed medical doctor, Reid. Medical doctor… if you so choose to ignore my friendly request, I will order you to go and sit your ass at a desk off any active cases and then we'll be two men down."

Reid blinked, surprised slightly by the show of tenacity from Hotch. He usually reserved tactics like that to dealing with sociopaths and politicians. Reid was neither.

"Fine, I'll schedule an appointment…" He rolled his eyes.

"You don't need to, there's a walk-in urgent-care facility a block from your apartment. I'll have Garcia drive you, or I can if you prefer."

"Wait, why do I need an escort?" Reid managed to ask just before his mind answered, 'To prove you actually went, Sherlock.' He silently thanked Watson for pointing out the obvious and filed it under weird that he had that notion to thank a fictitious device he used in his own internal monolog. "I promise I'll go, I don't really want to bother Garcia or..."

"I'll take you then." The firm finality in Hotch's voice left no room for arguments. Reid suspected this had been his goal, cursing himself for playing into Hotch's hands when he was so obviously in one of his zones of authority.

If he had wanted to; he could break down the play within the office, and it was a power-play, into Hotch wanting to insert himself into Reid's medical adventure to accumulate answers he himself had in regard to his agent's health. Answers he knew damn well Reid wouldn't give him. He steadied himself for what he suspected would be a round of endoscopy, ultrasound, CT scan (with contrast dye, lucky for him… not), MRI or PET scan, depending on just how well stocked the Urgent Care Facility was. Hell, they might x-ray him after the physical exam, too.

"Now, are we finished?" Reid asked, hopefully.

"Almost. I'll take you after work tonight, around 5:30, We'll leave early."

"Super." Reid's sarcasm dripped, practically staining Hotch's carpet before he went for the door.

"Reid…?"

"Yes Hotch?" He asked, hand finally resting on the knob, the door cracked as he hoped to make a fast escape.

"I _am_ worried about you."

Reid pouts a little at this point, "I'll meet you in the elevator at 5:30."

XX

What Reid had suspected to be a slew of tests, thanks to a few too many viewings of Mystery Diagnosis, had been confirmed after three separate blood panels were taken, he had a physical exam, explained symptoms… symptoms he had been remiss to say in front of Hotch or any team member for that matter, and thanks to Hotch's bullying, Reid was bullied into a procedure the doctor was also bullied into performing.

The endoscopy, and on-site pathologist did not end in a positive manner, despite being given a general anesthetic to put Reid under, the tube was not a comfortable addition to his throat. They had run tests through his stomach and upper parts of his duodenum, sneaking ultrasounds of his gallbladder, liver and pancreas to be sure there were no hidden bile-stones or blockage, there was apparently evidence of bleeding and Reid entertained the thought that he had succeeded in giving himself an ulcer before the doctor explained a much worse scenario.

The maelstrom that hit when those words fell from the doctor's mouth sinking his happy thoughts of antibiotics and less happy thoughts about going easy on the coffee for a few weeks came with a sharp intake of air from Hotch, signaling to Reid that now was a time to listen and not think.

"Spencer, the pathologist looked at the samples we collected from your stomach and duodenum. You have areas of tissue necrosis. We're going to have to perform a major surgery. We have several top-notch GI surgeons, and the immediacy of this procedure is important. We can arrange for an appointment tomorrow at 8AM."

Reid blinked, "Wait… necro…"

"Necrosis, tissue death within your stomach and the upper portions of your small intestines, we'll have to run a PET scan to see if blood flow is compromised elsewhere. Your digestive system is shutting down, we need to figure out if this is bacterial, viral, fungal, auto-immune, or even cancerous. We want to have you admitted to…"

"I know what necrosis means, and I know the potential causes of it… I just have no idea how I could possibly fit in to any of those… I haven't even been eating out as much since JJ…" Reid paused, a thought hit him, food borne toxins could also cause this, and he hadn't been eating out _much_… but he had been eating in. Sometimes, thanks to the occupational hazard of their jobs, occupational bio-hazards occurred in refrigerators. "You should start me on a broad spectrum antibiotic, gram positive, negative and null varieties. Also, I can bring in samples of what I've been eating for the past two weeks. You might be able to identify the source."

"Spencer, I don't think you understand how much damage there is, this is emergency surgery. The diameter of these lesions aren't something an antibiotic is going to fix. If anything, right now we have to keep your system clean until after the surgical repairs and then we'll set you on a very strict regiment."

"How many and how big that you've seen, doctor?" Hotch asks, braving the answer Reid would be happier to systematically ignore.

"There are at least three, one near the pyloric sphincter in his stomach that is the largest, rough 3cm in diameter, one in his duodenum at 1.2cm, and another in the fundus of his stomach, that lesion is the deepest but also the smallest, it's only 1cm. The bleeding indicates that it is deep enough to reach major vessels. If this is a food-borne infection, it could lead to septicemia and death."

Reid clicked his tongue. "Well… that's good to know. Hotch, a word?"

Hotch looked at the younger agent, unnerved at how he is taking the news. It's obvious he's compartmentalizing, but that's the sort of response he'd expect from Prentiss- sure as hell not Reid. Reid would throw statistics at it to make it grow smaller and more bored until it would inevitably walk away frustrated and with a headache. Reid would become introspective, Reid would not just act like he hadn't heard a doctor tell him he needed surgery within the next 10 hours after being poked and prodded for the last 3 hours.

He approached, he noticed Reid's adam's apple bob up and down quickly.

"I need you to go to my apartment, get my go bag in the linen closet closest to the front door. There's also a stack of papers inside the top left drawer of my desk and a fountain pen, and stamped envelopes. Saying I'm going straight to the hospital on rush in-patient admittance, I don't think I'll have the chance to grab those things. Would you mind…?"

"No, not at all, Reid how are you handling this?"

He swallowed back trying to keep emotion out of his voice. If he had to admit to anything, it was that he was petrified, but even worse was the sense that he wasn't going to be near his family for the next few weeks until he got cleared for duty again. Statistically, surgeries involving the digestive tract, especially large areas of it, had some of the longest recovery times, high risk of mortality, and tended to be gruelingly painful if they had to do open explorative surgery.

"Doctor Nielson, which GI surgeon specializes in laproscopy and minimally-invasive surgical techniques? Who has the best stats and who do you recommend?"

"A colleague of mine works in a private practice based in the VA hospital, Dr. Cummings, she's an excellent surgeon and has a wonderful Pathologist on staff. I'm sure she'll be able to see you immediately, especially in these circumstances."

Reid nodded. He folded his hands and placed his head upon them, closing his eyes in exhaustion. It was strange, as fast as his mind processed, he couldn't take all of this in all at once, it was a rare feeling, but he definitely felt overwhelmed.

TBC…?

A/N: If you think you want this to continue, people, let me know. I have no idea whether I should proceed and what direction I'll take this in if I do.

Right now, I'll leave the pre-slashy nature of it here, but it most likely will become established or will establish something. *Shrugs* Anyhow, more stories to come soon. Please keep a look out for me!


	2. Comfortably Numb

Within the span of ten minutes, Hotch had driven Reid to the hospital, where he was checked in within another thirty minutes.

During this forty minute window, Reid systemically recalled every book, article, and brochure he'd ever read on the subject of necrotic gastroenteritis. It was a very depressing, isolating thought… and not even an entirely correct one. He put his hand on his head and leaned over in the chair he sat in, because he still hadn't been processed fully. He wondered when Hotch would be back, but then again he couldn't be sure if he even saw Hotch leave yet. For a moment, he decided to glance around for his boss instead of get lost in very terrifying prospects and his own misinformation.

It struck him, the malady that made the most sense, the one statistically most likely to hit him… it all made perfect sense that he'd have peptic ulcers, sometimes they can show in other parts of the digestive tract, specifically the duodenum of the small intestine. Caused by Helicobacter pylori… mentally he ran through every fact he had about it. Such as the onset from years of having it in the body but if stress levels increase or the immune system decreases for any reason, that's when it can flare.

It made perfect sense. He had a stressful job, true, but to date very few things had ever made him lose his ability to detach himself from the worry.

Just to be certain of this best fit he ran through every abstract viral, parasitic, protozoan, and fungal disease sources he could think of. He tried to remember all the parasites that could possibly cause these symptoms… and there were a lot. Most of which were kept in far away places, typically Southeast Asia or Africa. A few were in South America and Northern Europe, but mostly, those parasites were stringent upon exposure to undercooked foods, poor hygiene conditions, pig feces…

…He shuddered just thinking about the pig farm, it had become affiliated with the last time he had seen Hotch before he had been shot and Hotch had been stabbed. He didn't recall stepping in anything, and when a genius with an eidetic memory says that, it holds a little more worth than say when Morgan doesn't recall placing reservations for hotel rooms. For a moment Reid debated the merits of making his next degree a medical PhD-MD program. It would probably help with autopsies, but he did already know a lot about it. Briefly, Reid tsked at the idea of being bored while studying for a new PhD program, it was time intensive and to choose one that was anything but enjoyable, he couldn't think of that as being positive.

Then he remembered he was about to go in for explorative surgery and that the doctors still weren't even sure what was making him sick. He blanched, he stopped looking for Hotch, he'd already found him at the nurse's counter anyway, and bowed his head to his knees.

Idiopathic is a frightening word, it means there are no solid answers, no solid statistic, and no solid path. If this wasn't ulcers, what else could it be? There had to be hundreds of possible causes, but as he ran through the list as he knew it to be, he ruled one after the other out. He knew he was crying, he could tell because his vision was more blurry than it would be if he weren't. Then again, staring at khaki pants from two inches away, it was hard to lose fine details.

From overwhelmed, Reid became fearful. Life experiences had taught him a few things, set expectations for what to do in situations like this. The coping mechanism he opted to use today was fetal position and crying, well, a seated fetal position… close enough. He expected to be left to his own thoughts, to work it out in his mind and then try to come to a solution, resolution or some life-changing affirmation.

He didn't expect a firm, warm hand on his shoulder to squeeze. The nurse had been female, not like she had a reason to touch him anyway… his head shot up, momentarily forgetting that his cheeks were tear-stained and his eyes were puffy and red from crying.

Before he could fully grasp what blurry orb was touching him, he was pulled into a strong set of arms. Arms he remembered clearly.

"…Hotch…" He whispered, too afraid to raise his voice, he knew it would crack and break. Enough things on him were breaking. He didn't want any more to try.

If it was some weird parasite, the doctor had a pathologist on hand, he'd have said something about it, right? Okay, so if it wasn't a new pet he hadn't intended to pick up, was it cancer, or H. pylori? But he hadn't had any great metabolic changes lately… well, okay so maybe a little.

No, it was still too quick for multiple sites, he said three, at which they were in two different sites. Okay, if it wasn't cancer, but it was still smaller areas, it couldn't be systematic enough to be his entire immune system. Autoimmune issues were out. Fungal…? No, those were more likely from injury, not ingestion, or to be subcutaneous or cutaneous. Viral?

Reid's head jerked up. Viral… he had to remember, he wished he had studied more viruses at the moment, he only had a brief overview. Sudden onset, multiple infection sites, ability to acutely do massive damage and then go dormant or be destroyed by the immune system, and usually highly contagious, all those fit… but he couldn't think of a specific example, or hearing of any outbreaks…

He was over-thinking, causing a panic-attack, he did even realize Hotch still hadn't let go, he was starting to realize fingers were snaking through his hair, stroking downward gently. He needed those blood results to tell him what the hell this was. It's too scary to have an unsub inside him. He didn't have a working profile of it without more information… and as far as medical metaphors and similes go, that's a hard pill for a profiler to swallow.

Gentle, soft words being chanted into Reid's left ear finally brought Reid to a more grounded position. Once Hotch was comfortable with the way Reid was breathing, he pulled back, hands still firmly planted on Reid's shoulders.

As that thought sank in, among the thousands of others swiftly buzzing by him in a malarial inducing haze of mosquito-thoughts, he realized one of the hands gracing his shoulder to instead swipe gentle but callused fingers underneath his eyes, rubbing away the remaining tears.

He blinked the moisture out of his eyes enough to see the studious look on Hotch's face as the man inspected him.

"…Wh…when did you even get back?"

"I haven't left, Reid. I called Morgan, he's going to get your things. I didn't think it was right to leave you alone so vulnerable…"

If Reid hadn't had so many other things on his mind, he'd have sworn that was what Hotch looked like when he blushed. Then again, Hotch blushing is as mythical as a rooster's tooth or a sharktopus… SyFy channel lies be damned!

Reality moving around him, along with the buzzing thoughts, and constant pain in his stomach from not ingesting large amounts of antacids left Reid hanging precariously close to feeling faint. That, or brief contact with Hotch caused a strange euphoric high, he was quite willing to concede that or was a mathematical or, the kind that can mean yes to both that is. He put a hand on his own forehead and leaned lower.

"I think I'm going to pass out." He let out a faint, almost hysteric unnerved laugh. Hotch's eyes went wide momentarily before he called over to a nurse, waving one arm, the other used to steady Reid's body just in case he came through on his threat of syncope. Reid wavered and Hotch pulled him into his side.

The younger agent closed his eyes to compose his breathing, when did the world around him start moving so frightfully fast? He felt like he was in slow motion watching everything else in fast forward, he smelled Hotch's fabric softener and a musky scent unsure of when he ever saw Hotch put musk on, but knew it to be the way the man smelled.

No one could smell that good naturally, could they?

He thought of pheromones briefly, though it was getting too hard to think through the pain. There was another blur of motion, making him really think the world was in fast-forward, what he didn't realize was that it was just a stampede of coworkers rushing toward him.

Hotch held his hand out in a stop-motion as Reid's eyes went wide. "Finally," Hotch seemed relieved when he said that, apparently spotting a nurse with a stretcher heading to the conformation of agents.

Reid was confused when no less than three sets of hands had 'helped' him to the stretcher. Hotch's, he knew, Morgan's… well he wondered just when exactly the man had gotten there, and why only to realize about thirty-four seconds later that he had come with Reid's belongings and team-mates. The third were smaller, feminine, he presumed a nurse.

Too busy figuring out who's hands were whose, he missed the fact that said nurse had fastened two IVs to him and was easing his back into the soft foam of the stretcher. His stomach lurched, he was unhappy to be moving in directions when fetal position had been working so well for his stomach before hand, and before he could fully grasp at the gnat-thoughts, he was in a hospital room along, Hotch's silhouette at the door, arguing with Morgan about whom would go in and why.

He would have been disappointed with the fact that it wasn't Hotch until he heard familiar clacks of heels. He started to sit up, "JJ!"

"Reid, lay back down." She said gently, smiling at him.

Reid nodded once, "JJ… I… how've you been?"

She smiled, "Better than you, apparently."

Reid mumbled something under his breath, JJ turned to face the door, noticing the doctor came in, she approached the foot of the hospital bed and gave Reid's foot a squeeze.

"Hospital green isn't your color, you really should stop wearing it." She smiled, Reid smiled back at her. He wondered when he had zoned out, because when he became aware again, the doctor was in the room talking to him, his head felt fuzzy, and that was about all he felt. In the corner he saw Hotch.

Hotch looming in a corner was both odd yet normal to Reid at the moment. It was odd because Hotch demands full focus and attention any time he's present, not because he's egotistical or even because he decrees it, it's just merely a mark of how perceptive the world is to an alpha-male with a star-studded career like SSAIC Aaron Hotchner of the BAU of the FBI. It was fitting because he couldn't imagine the room without Hotch in it though.

The doctor mentions something about another three minutes and he'll be ready to take in for the surgery, and Reid misses the fact that he's been anesthetized and prepped for surgery. He's missing several things, he couldn't tell you when he even put on the hospital garb JJ pointed out to him.

"Reid, you're doing fine…" Hotch smiled gently.

"…When'd JJ leave?"

Hotch's eyes widened momentarily, Reid presumed if he was a blinker, that would have been the point for him to prove it. "Reid, JJ left two weeks ago."

"No, I mean she came into my hospital room a few minutes ago… then she left when the doctor came in. She told me hospital green isn't my color."

Hotch put a hand on Reid's ankle, but he couldn't feel it. He just felt heavy, heavy and fuzzy.

"JJ wasn't here, Reid. You passed out a few minutes after the others got here."

"What time is it then…?"

Hotch doubted Reid even grasped that he was telling him about a dream, but he felt uneasy seeing Reid out of sorts. Out-of-sorts Reid is a seldom-seen Reid, and when that Reid makes appearances, shit is usually somewhere within the immediate vicinity of a fan. He can site the two other instances where he'd seen this—the Henkle case immediately after finding Reid lasting for a few weeks, and when Reid had remembered Riley Jenkins. It had been one of the few times Reid had actually used his personal leave time.

Moving closer to Reid's face, Hotch approached the bed-side. "Reid, this probably seems to be going very fast, but they've scheduled you for emergency surgery. They're the best of the best at what they do. The doctor got your blood-work back, they know what they're looking for and what they have to do. When you wake back up, everything is going to be fine. I promise, okay?"

Reid nodded sleepily, he wasn't even really sure what Hotch was going on about.

He silently saw Hotch pull out his cell phone and place a call, getting a severe look from no less than two nurses looking into the room, waiting for Reid to be out cold, which after that, he supposed he was… because he wasn't supposing anything else.


	3. Requiem for a Dream

Reid's head had somehow become a balloon on a string, drifting further and further from the hand that tethered him to this world. Was that why his head felt so fuzzy? It had been so constant since yesterday morning. A balloon caught in a whirlwind had very bad odds, though. He didn't want to have bad odds. He wanted to have good odds.

Too much of a practiced card-shark, Reid wouldn't play a game with odds this bad. There were sounds around him, sights, smells, but everything just had that haze of a drugged stupor, and he hated that. It brought back more thoughts that were also very hazy, so hazy in fact that they were too bleary to see fully. Yet somehow, he knew to appreciate that detail.

He heard a constant beeping, one that slowed and accelerated at different moments, making him very uncomfortable. Couldn't it just be a metronome counting for someone playing Beethoven? Then, that's what it became.

The metronome's tics disappeared into a grand concerto, he sits in a darkened row of seats, a hand brushed his thigh just above his knee, he smiles and turns away from the concert to see the hand, and follow it up with his vision to see whom it belongs to.

Hotch smiled at him giving his leg one more squeeze. "Everything is going to be fine. I promise, okay?"

He was standing up now, fumbling for something in his pocket before walking out of the concert-hall. Reid tries to stand up and follow, but instead he is pulled back into a lying position, strapped to the table with restraints that are more parts tentacle than he'd suspect. Then again, he didn't know what to expect. They felt sticky, moist too. They pulled him further and further into a less comfortable pad than what he'd been on before. When he was ever on a pad, he wasn't sure. Then again, that was the point, right now he was unsure of a lot of things. Namely his mortality, why though?

Beethoven filled the air again, the sickly smooth violins and violas were lulling him into a feeling of unease and unrest. Piano Sonata 12, he recognized it, it was a very powerful piece…

…It was Beethoven's Death March. Reid struggled to sit up again, their metronome must be broken, it was sounding, beeping erratically and out of time with the music. There was a pinch, a large spider crawling up to his elbow and biting him, injecting him, he fell back into the chair and watched the concert continue, everything else around it blurred out of the point of recognition.

Staring up at the stage at the players, he started to zone out, Hotch and Jack were up there. He wondered why… he also wondered how the concert hall became a picnic in the park up top, and a pit with a full orchestra below. They were playing, Hotch hoisted Jack up under his arm, running him like a football. Morgan was chasing after them, Jack was _holding_ a football. Prentiss arbitrarily held up her arms once Hotch rushed past her holding Jack, Morgan still a good few paces behind the Hotchner men.

"Touchdown! And the crowd goes wild…!"

Rossi holds up a silver flask, "I'll drink to that." About to take a swig, the flask is snatched out of his grasp, Reid's eyes dart around to watch Jack doing the touchdown dance, and Hotch somehow keeping up, which Reid feels embarrassed _for_ the man, since he obviously can't feel it for himself and still keep up the performance. He looks back to Rossi, JJ is holding the flask now, pouring the contents into the grass.

"For my homies." She says almost deadpan, tosses him the now-emptied flask and picks up Henry from Will, hugging her son and kissing Will's cheek before pulling back with her trophy. Garcia is smiling and crying at the same time.

Reid swallows thickly, if it's a BAU picnic… why is he not there? He looks down at himself, the concert hall is somehow in faze and yet he's clearly sitting in the grass watching them. He smiles, finally feeling more at ease. He sits upright a bit more straight. His fingers are in between the grass blades and that feels better than he'd have suspected.

Hotch sets Jack down and then walks over to Reid, plopping down next to him, holding up a hand at Morgan who is now in possession of the football. "Give me a minute."

Morgan rolls his eyes, signals Jack to come back to the field and somehow, Garcia is convinced to give football the good-ol'-college-try with Morgan, a collegiate football player until he blew his knee.

Reid turned to face Hotch, for the second time the man was sitting next to him in the span of, well however long this concert has been. He recognized Chopin playing now. It was strange to go from Beethoven to Chopin, alright maybe not… since they're both classical composers, but the song sets, in the same concert? Usually a concert catered to one composer. It reminded him of a burned CD Garcia had made for him a long time ago, after he mentioned his love for classical composers instead of typical bands. She had made him two CDs, one to get hyped up for karaoke and one to come down from it. These songs were in the same order as the come-down-from-karaoke CD.

He was glad they weren't playing the hype-up for karaoke CD song-track. He'd hate to hear Cher singing at this exact instance for some reason. It would probably ruin the moment.

Hotch leaned in toward his left ear, whispering. "It's going to be okay, Reid, you'll be fine. I know you will be… I'm counting on that. I love you."

Reid smiled, that warm feeling in his chest somehow wasn't embarrassment, it was just solid contentment. He closed his eyes, the warmth of the light on his face, the sun felt superb. Now if only the air didn't smell so medicinal he could enjoy the park more.

A stray football broke through that thought, plummeting into his gut, he lurched forward, groaning. "…Ugh…!"

"Reid! Watch out, sorry!" Morgan smiled, looking at his friend back to Jack and Garcia, the two turned to snub him and act like they hadn't _JUST_ been playing football with him.

Wincing, Reid reached his hand to the sore spot, his hand pulled back with tarry black, green and blood red all over it. His eyes went wide, the scenery was shattered, gone.

The light was far more intense and far less pleasant. He flinched his eyes shut, pain radiated from his center and stretched to the roots of all his limbs, his left shoulder felt a pressure on it.

"Reid, I'm right here…"

Of course Hotch is right there, Reid thinks, after all, he'd been sitting with him through the entire concert and the park, why would he suddenly move?

"Do you need anything? Water…?"

Since when does getting hit in the gut with a football a water-offering event? He blinked through his winced eyes, squinting as he started to open them. So this time he was in a hospital room, huh? He didn't hear Chopin or Beethoven anymore. He heard a second-based ticking and noticed the clock on the wall blurrily. Hotch put his glasses over the bridge of Reid's nose, the arms of the glasses slipping behind his ears without scratching his face. Rare, normally when someone else puts glasses on a person they ALWAYS nail them right near the eye, it's one of Murphy's Laws after all.

Well, actually, it's a theory, Murphy's Law is a theory.

The clock looks strange, he saw it vaguely a few minutes ago and it had said 7:49.32. Now it was on the position of 2:13.13…14…15… Reid shook his head, "What time is it?"

Hotch glanced at his watch, apparently not aware of the wall-mount. "About 2:15. How do you feel?"

"Like Morgan tackled me. Again." The after-thought made Hotch smile despite himself. At least Reid seemed to be thinking more clearly now.

Slowly, there was a swell of music coming from the windowsill, a CD player sat there. Reid glanced in that direction to spot Morgan there, moving his hand back, holding a CD case.

Bach's Cello Suite 1 Prelude swept through the room, it was more relaxing than the other songs, track 11 on the CD.

"The surgeon suggested playing your favorite CD during the surgery to keep you calm, Garcia told us about the one she burned for you a while back and said that would probably be the best one to bring." Morgan explained.

Reid nodded, that made sense. So, then, that explained the concert hall, he had a dream about that while he was in surgery—wait, WHAT? He pulled the covers from his chest to inspect for gaping wounds, his eyes darting back and forth to measure over the bandages, he only slightly regretted the sudden movements, making him glare at his IV.

"Am I on painkillers right now?" He says in a testy voice.

Hotch nods once curtly, "You were put under general anesthesia, you're still coming out of it. I'll make arrangements with the nurses, if you'd prefer…"

"I definitely _prefer_ not to be on pain killers." He swallows heavily, "Very much so." Reid rakes fingers through his own hair, because it's better if he feels the shaking tremble in his fingers than the others see it, much better.

"Are you up to more visitors now, Reid? The others are wondering how you're doing now that you're awake."

"Uh, yeah, sure." Reid smiles at his boss, hopeful to have him overlook his pissy outburst. Hotch nods and opens the door, Garcia, JJ and Prentiss come in quickly in procession, Rossi saunters in a few moments later, gives Hotch a look, and Hotch nods before excusing himself to talk with a nurse to make arrangements for Reid.

"Oh Reid!" Garcia mentions, no longer latching onto JJ's elbow, instead flinging herself dramatically onto Reid's bedside, clutching his right arm. "I can't believe it… why didn't you tell us it was so serious!"

He blinked, baffled still that JJ was even there, was this real this time? It was starting to get very confusing.

Morgan chided, "Woman, calm down, our boy here JUST got out of surgery and you're already climbing into bed with him? Seriously, give him a week to recover first."

"A woman has needs, damn it." She shot back, smiling flirtily, "but if you want to take me to bed in his place for that week, you have the number, key and my schedule." She winked.

"Only a week, huh?"

Prentiss chose to ignore their blatant innuendos to explain to Reid why JJ was there, "Garcia called her when she called the rest of us. She can't stay long, since she's on her lunch break to come in."

JJ nodded, and smiled back at Reid. "Are you alright…?"

Reid looks down, "I'm not sure yet."

TBC.


	4. Opus 4 Number 3

JJ smiles reaching toward Reid to put her hands on his shoulders, "You know, I can't have you getting sick just because I'm not at the office to send you off to the doctor's."

Garcia beams, "Hotch has you covered on the mother-henning aspect. It's a good thing, too… Junior G Man here didn't even tell me his stomach was upset since you…" she sniffled and looked at JJ, "Well, since you left us."

JJ lips an apology to Garcia, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, her phone begins to vibrate on her hip. She bites back a string of syllables and opts for a sad smile.

"It's time for you to head back already?" Prentiss asks, shocked at how little time the blond was spared to give her ex-teammates the time she'd have loved to dole out.

"Duty calls…" she sighs, "You wouldn't _believe_ what they have me doing at this job." She takes hold of Reid's hand and squeezes. "Now you listen to me, Spence. I expect you to have a full recovery and to start writing me letters. They don't have to be every day, but I don't want you to be a stranger. You're a part of my life, and Henry's and I don't want you trying to get out of that just because we don't work together any more. You understand?" She swiped at the bottom corner of her left eye, the eye with the most precarious of tears looming.

"I promise, should we do a monthly dinner?"

"I'd really like if we could try to." She hugs him, her phone vibrates again, angrily. "Ugh, I have to go. I'm so sorry Spence, feel better. Oh, and make sure Morgan gives you your Jell-O, I told him it was sugar-free so he might actually let you have it."

Reid pouted for a moment.

"It's not really sugar free, Reid, I lied to him…" She smiled, rolling her eyes, "Honestly, you profilers think you're immune to getting duped, I'm better at it than any of you will ever know fully. Get well soon!" She squeezed his arm then waved vaguely at the room, hugging Garcia and Prentiss on her way out.

Reid looked down at his chest, blinking and hoping he wouldn't cry in front of everyone then looked up to smile at the rest of his family. He spotted Hotch coming back inside the room just in time to shake hands with JJ, a firm hand on her shoulder, a knowing look, and then they parted. Hotch's eyes caught onto Reid's and Reid quickly diverted his eyes to address the others in the room.

"So, there's Jell-O…?" Reid asked, a nurse came in behind Hotch and fiddled with the bags to the side of Reid's arm, jarring his IV twice. He winced slightly, unconsciously. It didn't hurt that he could feel at least. If he measured hurt as a feeling of pain, there would be none, but if he chose to measure it in the damage of tissues and bruises he'd have by tomorrow? The wince was probably justified.

The woman squeezed his bicep, he gave her a strange look, she injected two shots into the tube capturing the end of one IV line and then uncapped another needle, filled it with the contents of a small vial she had in her dress pocket, injected the IM into his bicep and quickly left before anyone thought to speak up.

Reid was thankful no one questioned her about what drugs were and weren't going into him or his progress. He was far too hazy to deal with knowing that at the moment and would prefer the silent solace of rest. His stomach lurched, though, the earlier thoughts of Jell-O were quickly replaced with a feeling of disgust at the sensation of ingesting anything, soft and wriggly or otherwise.

"You know, if I'm not going to be able to eat I hope they opt for an IV instead. Experts believe Garfield would have survived his assassination if he had been fed instead of having his nutrients given to him as a suppository."

Garcia flexed her brows.

"…Garfield was the second President of the United States ever assassinated. He was shot in the back and died from an infection after surgeons attempted to remove the fragments from his back."

"Reid, why would you even think something like that!" Garcia gave him a stern look, "You're going to be up and out of here, back on your feet in no time! Sir," She looked at Hotch, "Permission to order your agent around."

"Permission granted." Hotch said ruefully.

She smiled, "Thank you, sir. That's an order, for you to be back to 100% pronto." She nods satisfied. Reid smiles back at her sincerely and lets out a yawn, his eyes getting heavier.

"And that looks to be our sign to get back to the office, ourselves." Rossi mentions, gesturing to the bed with Reid half-asleep on it. "Hotch, Morgan and I should be able to hold down the fort."

Prentiss picked up behind them, "Oh, before I forget- here's a few books from your place, and your go bag, Reid. Oh, and what's this…?" She opened his bag partially and started to pull out a ludicrously stuffed-in get-well balloon out. She tied it to the end of the bed before setting the bag down in a corner. "Well, we'll get out of your hair now."

She nudges Garcia when the red head didn't start her immediate retreat with the rest of the group.

"But… hey… but I…"

"Come on, baby girl, we need to let pretty boy get his beauty sleep."

Reid smiled again, flicking his wrist to give a meek wave. "You'll stop back in after work, right guys?"

"Of course." Garcia said quickly and seriously. Rossi rolled his eyes at her, he and Prentiss took the efforts to push her towards the door.

Morgan tapped Reid's arm. "I'll be back to check on you tonight, you can count on it. We all want to be kept in on the loop." He glances at Hotch, suggesting the man's presence as the new resident mother hen. "Get some sleep. And Reid…"

"Yeah?"

"You need anything, don't hesitate to call."

"Thanks." Morgan wrapped an arm around Garcia, seemingly to take up the cause of keeping her occupied for the week in his bed, if the playful way he cupped her ass meant anything. Hotch waited for them to exit, closing the door as they went.

"So, how are you feeling?"

"Tired. What did they give me anyway?"

"Intramuscular relaxer and sedative. Reid, about earlier…"

"You told me you love me…?" Reid tested the waters, unsure of how much was real and imagined, but he couldn't help but think even in his wildest imagination he'd never be so charitable to himself.

"I did, and I do. I'm glad you're getting through this alright. Are you in any pain?"

"Expected amounts, probably why she tranked me, if they can't outright numb me, they'll keep me unconscious through the worst of it."

"Probably. I'll be here, too."

"That helps more than you'd think… and Hotch…?"

"Yes, Reid?"

"I do too."

He smiles, looking at the half-asleep Reid in the hospital bed. "Get some sleep. I'll see you when you wake up."

"Well, then, good night."

TBC.


	5. Bleed Like Me

Slowly pulled from sleep by the sounds of clacking keys, Reid cracked his eyes open, finding his glasses still on. He attempted to focus on the sound, Beethoven, Bach, and Chopin on a continuous loop thanks to Morgan's working of the CD player and Hotch's indifference to turning it off… He really did wish he had a different CD, but he was also unwilling to hurt Garcia's feelings over misguided good intentions.

Affiliating his surgery with a death march was not the ideal calming, sage music his doctor had probably wished for.

Reid spotted Hotch, typing away on a laptop that he seldom used. On his lap were two files open, each with pictures detailing a different crime believed to be perpetrated by the same unsub. "…Mm what time is it?" He stretched slowly, carefully.

Hotch looked up from the files, straightening them as he closed them back up. "It's about 4. Are you up to trying to eat?"

Reid slowly shook his head, "Not even slightly." He licked his dry lips, "Wouldn't mind some water though…"

Hotch stood up, approached a basin and glass, filling the one with the contents of the other. He handed it off to Reid who brought it slowly but directly to his lips, he suddenly empathized quite well with sloths. That groggy, tired, sand-bag feeling of muscle relaxers constantly adding that extra bit of challenge to hand-eye coordination. He took three large gulps before Hotch's steady hand tipped the glass back lower.

"You're going to want to pace yourself, or you'll regret it later." He warned in a gentle tone.

Reid just looked at him for a moment, his eyes then found the most interesting of his four bed corners to be the left rear, the exact opposite to where Hotch stood. "So, they filled you in, right?"

He looks at the younger agent, a few moments later it clicks for him to understand just what he was or was not filled in about. "About the details of your surgery?"

"That, and the blood work, recovery process, all the nitty-gritty. I know you asked if they weren't forth-right. So," Reid's eyes went from that interesting corner to Hotch's eyes with a stark need for knowledge, "what did they say?"

Hotch set the glass down on the rolling tray-frame, he went back to his chair, moved the files and pulled it away from the window and closer to Reid's side. He suspected he'd need to sit for this lengthy conversation.

"I'm sure they can explain it better than I can…"

"And I'm sure they'll try to sugar coat it and glaze over things that I'm too out of it to catch. You won't, you don't believe in side-stepping important points."

That got him an exasperated sigh, "You shouldn't push yourself too hard, yet, Reid. You did just get out of major surgery."

"So I don't have the right to know how major so I can compensate and plan my recovery schedule accordingly…?" Reid offered, it wasn't heated, it was even and calculating. He was measuring Hotch's reactions and the older man knew damn well why.

"I didn't say that, but if you start getting too worked up about it, I'm not going to tell you more until you're capable of handling it." He gave Reid a once-over glance, "And I will be watching for signs that you're losing it."

Reid smiled at that, the uneven grin of someone about to get their way even if they probably shouldn't. Not like he felt he was pulling one over on Hotch, Hotch was too smart for that and Reid would never take that away from the man even if he wasn't also a resident genius.

"You went into surgery to excise the damaged tissue, from the endoscopy they knew of three and knew there was a potential of more. There were seven spots total. The largest was 2 inches inside your duodenum, it had smaller areas of dead tissue apparently following that blood vessel, so they opted to take out 6 inches of your duodenum instead of trying to clean out and suture the largest patches. They did suture your stomach where the second largest patch was." He paused, locking eyes with Reid, giving the young man time to process the information.

"…How bad is the damage in my stomach?"

"From ulcers or from the necrosis? They were able to remove all of the dead tissue, there were still a few shallow ulcers they didn't want to remove, namely so you still have some surface area in your digestive tract. You're going to be here for a week at minimum on that." He gestures to the two IVs, one bag, as Reid identified the cocktail of three drugs.

"Rabeprazole, Metronidazole, and Levofloxacin… do they think I'm allergic to penicillin?"

"They have 'drug allergy' listed for opiates, so they're probably being careful to prevent any complications."

"Yeah… _allergic_…" Reid mentions nervously, tasting the word on his mouth. It was very metallic and bitter, he assumed the metallic taste was due to the Metronidazole, that or his throat was hoarse enough to bleed. Reid put a hand to his mouth, suddenly feeling nauceous.

"Reid…?"

Scratch that, nausea was what happens when you felt like you'd emit, actually vomiting brought it to a different level.

His cheeks flushed scarlet despite paling before he emptied the mostly-water, and oh look, there was blood… guess it wasn't a side-effect.

"Hold on, I'll get a nurse, and a towel." Hotch reached behind Reid's bed to hit the call button then took three large steps to the opposite side of the room, grabbing a towel left behind by nurses making rounds and who had wiped Reid down while he slept. They had left an extra in case he got a sheen of sweat between the scheduled rotations. "I warned you about the water…"

Reid didn't even groan in protest, he was just too mortified at the fact that he had thrown up in front of his boss and the man who claimed to love him, god he felt so small.

"Hey, it's alright, Reid… really. I've seen worse, I've had worse ON me…" he raised his hand, "I have a kid, remember? Believe me, diaper duty is much worse than that, so don't…"

Reid started to hurk again.

"Hold on, I'll get a-" he managed to thrust a basket under Reid's mouth just in time for round two of the emission.

"Ow… ow…" Reid curled inward, wrapping hands around his stomach, "Oh god this really hurts… ow…"

Two nurses came in, just in time to see Reid collapse forward despite the choice fluids covering him, pulling inward was more comfortable than not being covered in puke, and since he already had it on him anyway, he opted to be more comfortable in the situation.

"Oh goodness, I'll get a change of clothes, give him something." The one said to the other, the younger nurse nodded, grabbed at his chart, looked at his regiment and opted to fiddle with line two. She injected an additional boost of something, and then pushed Reid's shoulders back gently onto the bed. His eyes were tight in a wince but started to relax into a more natural closed expression.

"He wound up drinking half a glass of water too fast, about half an hour ago." Hotch informed. The woman nodded.

"Yep, that would do it. Poor dear. We're going to give him some electrolytes to keep him hydrated. This might become a bit of a tradition." Hotch nodded once to acknowledge the woman.

"Is there anything I can do to help…?"

"We've got this, there's a washroom just outside, it looks like he got you a bit." The other nurse handed him a small towel. Hotch excused himself, not because he cared that there was puke on him, but because he thought Reid deserved some privacy and modesty while he was changed even if he was unconscious, or more likely faking it. It was cute how embarrassed a grown man could get over something so inconsequential. And Hotch had meant it fully, he has had far worse over much larger parts of his body and had to endure the rest of diaper-duty before he could fix it.

He recalls just how much fun Jack-Jack had with the fire-hose if one wasn't fast enough with the wash-clothe shield, but he learned quick, damn it. Armani suits were expensive to dry-clean.

Hotch returned shortly after the first nurse left with a bundled up wad of hospital-gown and towels. Standing beside Reid, he brushed his bangs back from his soaked brow.

"I need to check his temperature, this doesn't look good." The remaining nurse mentioned, she pulled a cart over from the corner and took out the built in thermometer attachment, sticking it into his ear. After a few moments it beeped to signal it was finished taking the reading. Reid visibly tensed at the sound. "100… not good. Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step outside for a little bit."

"Of course… what's going on?"

The nurse hit the call button in rapid succession four times. Hotch leered from just outside the door, looking through the tinted window to see movement over Reid's bedside as IV bags were changed out, added, and ice packs were placed to Reid's head. When a small armada of people left, Hotch ventured back inward only to spot a figure in his chair.

The man smiled at the agent, "Howdy."

"…Hello." Hotch said out of politeness, unsure of just what the greeting was about.

"I'm going to sit in here for a while with Spencer here to make sure his fever doesn't spike again, please ignore me." He smiled, obviously a friendly, down-right bubbly person. Hotch doubted very much he could just 'forget he was there' and 'ignore him'. He picked up his files that had been moved to the window sill and began flipping through them while standing.

"So you bring your work with ya, huh?"

Hotch knew he was in the right profession. He just knew that man wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut for long durations. Long, apparently, was defined as 32 seconds.

He let out a breath, he hoped Reid would somehow sleep through this, because he doubted he'd be up for this sort of company.

"When I have to." He went back to reading, "He's asleep, right?"

The man nodded, "Out like a light."

"Let's keep it that way." He brought a finger to his mouth suggestively. The nurse made a zipper-closing motion over his mouth, took off the zipper handle and put it in his pocket.

"Okay, gotcha, I'll be quiet."

Hotch sorely doubted it, and like clockwork, 32 seconds after his last statement, "So whatcha reading?"

He let out a slightly more audible groan, he was sorely tempted to ACTUALLY tell the man and shock him into a stupor, he figured that stupor would last for 2 minutes but decided against testing that. "It's classified."

He had rarely been so happy to receive a call from Morgan as the man shot out an ETA of twenty minutes, bringing Prentiss along for the ride. Rossi having convinced Garcia to stay behind to help out on sorting through the cases for another hour before they'd make an appearance themselves.

TBC.


	6. Time Warp

Hotch had finally found a groove in which he could half nod at every 32 seconds, the cycle had a 2 second delay from the chatty nurse going on in his conversation. He had gotten into this niche five minutes after meeting the man in Reid's hospital suite.

By time Morgan got there, he was strangely numb to it. He almost thought about what would happen if Mr. Bubbles here got into a conversation with Garcia, depending on her mood they'd either hit it off spectacularly, or she'd hit him with her purse repeatedly. He excused himself for a moment to hand off his files to Prentiss and tell her the situation. Morgan already took up the abandoned perch beside Reid's side, he half-listened to Reid's breathing and the conversation Hotch and Prentiss were having, his brow twitched at the nurse started to try a conversation with him.

"Listen, man, I get it… you're stuck in a room with some unconscious guy and you need conversation because you're a lonely, lonely person. But this is not the time to let out the frustration of your latent sexuality because people just can't believe you're straight because you're a male-nurse and thus get no time with the honeys. We're not really going to help you man up, you have to do that on your own, one suggestion, less purple scrubs, more deep blues or greens." Is what he wants so badly to say, instead he just twitches his brow as the nurse asks what it's like to travel all over the states as if they get a chance to look at local sight-seeing endeavors when they search for serial killers.

Reid's monitor starts to speed up in beeps around 6:30, and the nurse smiles, approaches his patient and runs a blood-pressure check then takes the temperature. All while still trying to chat to Morgan, Hotch, Prentiss, or anything resembling sentient, Reid groans and opens his eyes. He isn't sure when he developed a headache, but he knew that it wasn't a migraine despite his urge to vomit, that 'nausea' or pre-vomit feeling he wasn't sure which just yet, was more likely a mild dehydration-headache. Not like he planned to touch any water to fix it. He groans again just recalling the agony in his stomach from his last attempts.

"Oh look at you, Mr. Sleepy Head." The nurse starts, Morgan and Hotch visibly wince, Prentiss grimaces a smile unsure of how Reid would react to this. Surgery left a person open for wild-card reactions. Anger, withdrawal, pensive silence, meekness, the range is vast and though Reid's case had been brought about through non-violent means it didn't mean he wouldn't be within that range somewhere.

Reid systematically attempted to adjust to noise and light levels, bleary tired eyes looking to identify the faces in the room. He spots the yapping thing that has his skull hosting a racquet-ball tournament and attempts to ignore it… him… whatever. He catches eyes with Hotch and pleads to make that go away without words.

Hotch gives him a sad look, non-verbal communication that he has to stay, unfortunately.

"How are you doing, buddy?" The nurse asks once more.

"What the hell do you think I am, twelve? I'm not your buddy, I have a headache, and I don't want to talk with you further."

Prentiss approaches, putting an arm on the nurse's forearm, she has suspicions she could get rid of him, he seemed desperate for female acceptance, maybe she could use it… Reid so owed her for this. She definitely was taking one for the team.

"Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to the cafeteria?" She already has him halfway out the door, flustered and blushing looking at the fine, flirtatious movements and beautiful woman belonging to them.

Reid winced and slapped at Morgan's hand as the man touched his. "Stop, I'm fine… really."

Morgan looks at him knowing just how full of it Reid is for saying that and opts to break into a toothy smile and laugh playfully, "Yeah… sure you are. So, marathon training in twenty minutes, right?"

His friend glowers, the hallowed look under his eyes makes it an impressive attempt at a glare, which of course makes Morgan laugh harder. A glare on a puppy while still is technically a dog giving a warning is absolutely ridiculous and still too adorable to accept the warning from.

The nurse, seeming to suddenly remember his charge, reenters the room and Prentiss's shoulders drop in disappointment. She almost succeeded, almost!

"Here, Spencer, drink some of this." The man was all smiles, Reid at this moment despises him with every fiber of his loosely-sewn-together being.

"No."

"I know you must be thirsty. You have a headache, right? You're dehydrated. Drink."

"Last time I did that I passed out." He elected to omit that he emitted all over himself and a waste basket in the process, and his boss. He winced his eyes together, it didn't mean he didn't remember it though.

"You just took too much too fast, you have to learn, and your body wants it. Have some, I insist."

"Did you know I'm in the FBI?" Reid started. Hotch touched a hand to his eyebrow, this was going to be good. "So, you trying to force me to drink water would be considered assaulting a federal officer. That's a _federal_ offense. Do you what they do to people like you in prison? _Soft people_ like _you_?"

"Oh you're just being grumpy." He smiled, oblivious to the waging looks of warning shooting between Morgan and Hotch.

"Morgan, can I see your gun?" Reid attempts to grab it from his holster.

"Okay now, that's enough!" Hotch quickly steps in as Morgan maneuvers away to prevent Reid from actually getting it. Hotch puts a hand on the nurse's upper arm, squeezes and pulls him out. "You, out. Send someone else in, he isn't going to cooperate with you, he's stubborn. We'll talk to him, the other nurse will get him to drink, but you—you go. Now." He refocused on Reid, "As for you! Knock it off, lie back down, and if your nurses and doctors want you to try to drink, you're _going_ to. Even if you just try, you're in a hospital because you need their care."

"They don't know what my body feels like personally."

Hotch gives him a look telling him to drop the act, he knows damn well Reid didn't take care of himself despite knowing what it feels like personally, and that furthermore his own love for empirical evidence basically made him a hypocrite for even saying that.

"Fine. I'll drink some water… but if it goes like it did last time I'm not doing it again!"

Hotch added an extra touch of authoritative glare, "Yes you will. You'll keep trying until it starts to work and you figure out how to do it properly."

"This isn't shooting practice, Hotch!"

"Really, then why were you going for my gun?" Morgan offered, Reid turned a frustrated glare at his best friend.

"Traitor. You wanted to shoot him too."

"Yeah, but I didn't reach for my gun."

"He was trying to assault a federal agent." Reid defended his actions.

"He wasn't even _HOLDING_ water yet." Morgan reminded the genius.

He slumped in defeat.

They all looked up hoping to see a new nurse come in when the door creaked, instead they spotted Garcia and Rossi.

"Okay, I'm going to see if I can drum up another nurse." Prentiss mentions, "If I'm not back in thirty minutes you each owe me a stiff drink."

Hotch silently understood, he had seen her trying to get the yappy Chihuahua of a nurse out of the room, but thanks to Reid's outburst had lost the snare, unfortunately, now she had a target on her back.

"Oh, oh, I'll take one too." Garcia smiled, "They serve those at hospitals now? How progressive." She smiles, "I would've killed for that when I was stuck in one of those." She pointed to the hospital bed.

Reid dry-heaved at the thought of drinking anything. His stomach hurt, mostly from pain, but hunger was there too. Too tired to deal with all this, he looks at the others, simultaneously he wished to be alone and yet feared it at the same time. He didn't want his friends to not be there, but he was achy, sore, and just didn't want to deal with it right now.

He knew he was being snarky, too, which didn't help. He didn't want to push his friends away right now, he had to find a way to cope with it. He was about to speak when Garcia started in, "Oh, before I forget…"

She plopped a large teddy bear that wore an FBI shirt and a book, The Jungle, in it's arms. Reid seriously wondered if Garcia was teasing him on purpose or if she just thought the name was appropriate for the bear. "Uh… thanks, Garcia… do you know what that's about?"

"Meat packaging plants." She mentioned in a dead-serious tone belittled slightly by her beaming smile, "I know its light reading for you, but you should try to relax."

Reid wondered if she really was doing this on purpose. Prentiss returned with another nurse just as Reid had given up on trying to keep up with everyone. He leaned back into the pillows with the idea of succumbing to sleep firmly there.

A much quieter nurse entered, and damn if Prentiss didn't find the GQ-model-by-day, nurse-by-night entry for the staff. The man was chiseled. Hotch gave his subordinate a look, wondering just what criterion she had gone off to search for.

"Excuse me." The nurse steps between Garcia and Reid, "Is this your bear?" He mentions to Garcia, winking. "It's adorable."

Rossi and Morgan both added a bit of a glare at Prentiss for her selection, Rossi, the jealous lover, Morgan, the jealous kind-of-lover of the girl being hit on by the smooth nurse.

"I'll just sit this right here. Sir, would you like to sit up a little or do you prefer if I angle the bed?"

"Or." Reid said, obviously not in the mood to stare at male eye-candy, especially eye-candy that can't compare to Hotch. His nurse approaches the bed and presses a button that leaves Reid wincing as he moves up about 15 degrees, he shoots the nurse horrible looks while the women in the room shoot him pheromones.

Hotch approaches Reid, this time making sure Morgan's service piece is well out of reach, and squeezes his hand. "Are you alright?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fantastic. I could see how it might be confusing since I just had most of my insides prodded, parts of which removed and then stapled that it might be weird for me to actually ENJOY SITTING UP suddenly to drink water which last time made me…"

"Reid!" Hotch said in an authoritative, soothing voice. The control expressed in that syllable snapped Reid from his own outburst, he lowered his eyes. "I'll take that as a 'no'. I think what he was trying to say is that it's too much of an angle for him."

The nurse paled, "I'm sorry, he shouldn't even be able to feel this…" speaking to himself he asked, "when was his last dosage of pain killers…?" he flipped through the chart and paled a little more. He took out a needle and Reid glared, suddenly wishing for the talkative nurse instead.

Reid's glare melted once the needle slid into him and gave him a quick boost of outside chemicals, the nurse fiddled with his IV, Reid wasn't sure why the man hadn't used his line's connector instead of giving him a shot, but after the pinch he feels too comfortable to rightly care. The man takes a look at his chart, and then back at the machines.

He opts to add another IV line, this one labeled 0.05% NaCl + 0.05% dextrose. The fast drip empties the bag within twenty minutes and it is removed, a regular saline bag replaces it, and Reid can feel the pressure in his head dissipate while he swims through the highs and lows of pain-killers.

He doesn't even realize he was out of it for an hour, or that Garcia and Rossi are now taking shifts watching him while Hotch runs home to get Jack squared away with Jess for a few days.

What he does know, however, is that Morgan has returned with trays of delicious smelling food. He tries to sit up a little, slightly regrets it and lays back down. "That smells good. That is so mean of you."

Morgan smiles back at his friend, "Want to try some?"

"No." Reid says in misery, obviously he wants to, he just knows he can't. He's very familiar with the consequences at this point.

The nurse from earlier approaches him and takes another temperature reading. He smiles, "Would you like to try taking a sip of water now?"

Reid gives a stiff nod, he doesn't really want to, but he knows he should. He knows Hotch would want him to, so he does so. He takes the offered straw into his mouth and sips until the nurse pinches it, takes that as a cue to stop. He waits, when the nurse stops pinching it closed, he takes that as cue to take another sip. After about three of those, the nurse takes the water away.

"Good, very good. We'll see how well you hold that in you before we try for more, okay?" He looks at the others in the room. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I am going to make my rounds. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Reid waits for him to leave before asking, "So where's Hotch?"

Morgan manages to make Reid feel guilty for trying to monopolize the man, quickly and efficiently with, "He's probably getting Jack ready for bed."

Reid swallows hard, hating himself for trying to take Hotch from that noble responsibility. No one misses the lonely look in his eyes for that moment.

"It's okay, he'll be back later, and besides, we're here, right? Rossi's going to take off in a bit, but I figured I'd test just how strict the hospital is with over-night visitors."

Reid smiles at the thought gently, appreciating the sentiment greatly. "What time is it anyway?"

"A few minutes before 9," Morgan explains. As the others finished eating, Rossi offered to give Garcia a ride back, she walks to Reid kisses her two fingers and taps them gently to his forehead.

"Good night, sweet prince." She smiles, "I'll bring something else for you to read tomorrow."

He returns a look at the teddy bear at the side of his face and the daunting assignment to read a book practically labeled 'why you got sick in the first place, tool' then looks at the balloon decorating the corner of his bed. He spots flowers sticking upright in a vase on the windowsill that Hotch had perched at to read and noticed at the time being that there wasn't any classical music playing. For the first time all day it was just light music, pop and rock, R & B, even jazz coming into the mix. He should really thank Prentiss the next time he was alone with her for that.

"Who brought the flowers…?"

Rossi raised his hand, "Hospitals are notoriously dull for colors. Figured you'd want something to focus on." The man didn't mention that it was awkward getting purple flower arrangements for a male coworker. He just knew it was appreciated and he'd take that as being his good deed of the week, he wasn't enough of a boy scout to make it a daily occurrence.

TBC.


	7. And I love Him

It's around 10PM when Reid is conscious of the sounds of footsteps moving past his door. He knows those steps aren't the nurses shoes. The nurses don't wear shoes with that style sole. They wear shoes that clack, or pad, the gentle thud of the laced-loafers are a guarantee that Hotch had actually come back.

He tried to wipe the smile off his face at the thought that Hotch had come to keep him company at the expense of his own son, his own abandonment issues aside, he decided to label this a work-hazard, not a courtship ritual. Romances shouldn't start in hospitals, and they probably shouldn't end their either. He glances around, for the past twenty minutes he'd been fully awake, almost bushy-tailed with some faux-energy that he was sure he'd crash from soon.

As far as he could tell, he'd been lying in bed unconscious for maybe 25 of the last 31 hours. Stir-crazy, cabin fever, all of these were terms to describe his condition, ants in the pants, anxious… giddy? Hotch opened the door without knocking. Reid spotted Morgan leaning against the window sill, he'd fallen asleep there twenty five minutes ago, bored out of his mind and assuming Reid would sleep through the night, but just in case he needed anything, and he knew the man meant it, he'd be there.

That had been his plan, until his boss nudged him a few times and ordered him to go home and rest in a proper bed.

Surprisingly, Morgan followed that order. Then again, Reid mused, Morgan was usually obedient to Hotch, except when he was required to open up to others and trust, then he'd be a bit leery. Everyone in the BAU was like that, except Garcia and JJ… well, scratch that last one, actually. JJ wasn't in the BAU any more, he reminded himself very bitterly.

Despite the anxious ways he kept scanning the room, almost begging Hotch to start talking to him, he just couldn't bring himself to make the first move. His stomach doing somersaults, while he'd love to blame on his emotions, was still based on the experimental amounts of water he was taking in. It didn't help that his throat was so parched, but the IV was keeping him anything but dehydrated, and the catheter constantly made him feel like he had to pee, even if he wasn't… well… was constantly, really. It was too strange, and slightly gross to think of it, he looked at Hotch, hoping the man would derail his very random trains of thoughts.

The busiest Amtrak station is Penn Station, despite Washington DC being the center of Amtrak. Thomas the Tank engine was created and first released in September of 1984 on 35mm film.

"Reid, how's your stomach?" Hotch finally started. Reid let out a breath of relief.

"Surgically altered."

Hotch rolled his eyes, "I mean how does it feel, Reid? How do _you_ feel?"

Reid smiled, that had been Hotch's way of preventing Reid from addressing an issue, he was sure, but he refused to profile his boss at the moment. "Very sore, I know I'm probably just imagining it, but my stomach—it's like I can feel a bunch of strings in it. It's preposterous, we don't have the same sensory perceptions in our organs as we have in skin… even the brain, for example, is completely unable of feeling pain. A headache is almost solely related to the muscles or blood vessels or skin above the skull, although the dura mater also has some sensory functions via pressure-receptors."

"Reid…" Hotch looked exasperated, he loosened his tie, "It's 10 at night, do we really need to go into that?"

"…I'm bored, and my sleeping cycle has been altered tremendously."

Hotch reached behind him, pulling out a book, surprising Reid. He was thankful it wasn't the Jungle, he already read it ten minutes ago after twelve minutes, it took that long to flip the pages. Begrudgingly, it had been an interesting read, but he'd already known the book.

"What's that you have there?"

"Rudimentary courtship rituals." Hotch smiled, Reid's eyebrows rose in curiosity. He suspected Hotch would hand over the book, but he did not. Instead he made sure the door was almost completely closed, leaving it cracked just in case a nurse needed to come in. "Are you familiar with Elizabeth Barrett Browning's sonnets?"

Reid's lips curled up almost in an unnatural happy expression, his face glowing at the thought.

"You probably could tell me line by line, I just hope not to ruin it for you." He cleared his tightening, dry throat. Nervous, and Reid appreciated it all the more for it.

"If thou must love me, let it be for nought, Except for love's sake only. Do not say: 'I love her for her smile… her look… her way. Of speaking gently, …for a trick of thought that falls in well with mine and certs brought. A sense of pleasant ease on such a day' –For these things in themselves, beloved may, be changed or change for thee, and love so wrought, may be unwrought so. Neither love me for thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry- a creature might forget to weep, who bore thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby. But love me for love's sake, that evermore thou may'st love on, through love's eternity." Hotch looked over to Reid, he shudders at the sensual look the younger man gives him. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach…"

Hotch slowly closed in on Reid, hand grasping Reid's as the other kept open the page for him to reference. He secretly had memorized it via audio tape driving over, but he'd never admit it.

"When feeling out of sight. For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men might strive for right; I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with passion put to use in my old grieds, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints, -I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life! –and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death."

Reid's breath hitched. "Stop reading now, please…"

Hotch closed the book looking at Reid anxiously, "I'm sorry… I should have chosen something lighter… happier maybe…"

"Your lips, they need to be on mine now." Reid nodded faintly, "Right now." He coaxed, to Hotch's delight, the older of the two men dipped down to kiss Reid, slow, sensuous and deep. The passion added to the butterflies in his stomach. Reid slipped his hands through Hotch's hair, ignoring the pinching feelings of his IV.

Hotch, catching a wince from Reid, pulled back, breaking the contact. "You're amazing. I love you."

Reid tried to look away, blushing, "Isn't that my line…?" Reid looked at the clock, "Rounds start in another five minutes…"

"Right, I guess I should make myself scarce for a few minutes."

"…Do you have to?"

"Probably not, but I would rather not chance it. I'll be back soon. I'll bring some CDs, unless you still want to listen to Beethoven's death march."

"And Chopin's… I didn't have the heart to tell Garcia what she was doing to me." Reid smiled.

"Well, it's about time I introduce you to the glories of the White album, I also have a portable DVD player, want to watch Clockwork Orange?"

"What is that even about? Prentiss mentioned it the one time, and for the life of me, I don't get why that would make me feel guilty for liking Beethoven… really? What?"

Hotch leaned closer to the hospital bed, "Hmm, no, I think that might be better for a different time. I think a romantic comedy might be better."

Reid cocked his head slightly and gave Hotch a dark look, "You know, you're secretly a bully."

"You say that now, because I'm not telling you, but once you see it you might think I'm overtly heroic."

"You are _overtly_ heroic, that doesn't mean you can't be a bully secretly." Reid pouted.

"I know, have you seen…" the sound of soft padding coming closer and diverting last minute caught Hotch's attention. "That GQ of a nurse is still here, huh?"

"You can still hear that? I thought the hearing loss was worse."

"In the right ear, it is, but my left ear recovered well. I'll be back."

"Please don't leave me. What if he starts trying to flirt with me? He's almost as bad as Rossi after two bottles of well-aged wine. _Almost_."

"No one's that bad. I'll be back. Just wait for me, besides, I'm pretty certain he's straight. He made it obvious how much he liked Garcia, but at least he's professional enough to leave you alone."

"It was funny to see Prentiss snubbed for Garcia, it's a shame Garcia didn't even pick up on it."

"With Morgan in the room? With her? There's no way she'd notice. You're stalling, I'm going. I'll be back." And with that he tucked himself into the bathroom.

TBC.


	8. Counting Bodies Like Sheep

Reid watched the bathroom door with a hawkish gaze as the main door swayed open to mostly-closed and exposed what Reid would say reluctantly was a handsome nurse approached him.

"Good morning," the man approached Reid, brushing the fabric of his hospital gown upward to view his IVs. Reid flinched at the gesture, giving clipped tones as he replied.

"I've been up for a while, actually."

"Oh, we'll fix that right up then." The nurse offered in a smooth tone, too smooth to Reid's ears.

"I'd rather you not. I don't want to be over-medicated."

"I can appreciate that, but if you don't get enough sleep, you won't heal properly. Your boss probably would like to go home without guilt, too." He reaches into his pocket again.

"I'm telling you, I deny consent for you injecting me with anything." His voice drops to a dangerously thin, razor-wire of a tone as he struggles with his own wish to garrote the nurse.

The nurse leaned in, equally quiet, "I've already heard you're a bit of a frump, let's try to relax a bit and get through the night, hmm? Unless you're up to drink more water that is…"

"Are… are you threatening me?" Reid said incredulously, how the hell did a nurse have the audacity to threaten a patient?

The man gave him a strange look, "Not at all. But you should try to drink some more water, we have to get you used to it again." He retracted his arm, "Come on, let's try sitting up again."

"I'm pretty sure I'm at my limit."

The nurse smiled patiently, "I understand that it feels that way, but you have to push yourself."

"I already am and I'm at my limit!"

"You know, you're getting a reputation around the nurse's station for being hard to deal with, but I promised your coworker that I wouldn't give up on you." He smiled cheerily which only managed to piss Reid off further. "Now let's try this on three, one… two…"

"Don't! I mean it!"

The nurse raised his hand, "Alright, then why don't you take a sip?"

"Why don't you go to hell!"

"You know, you'd be much less cranky if you took something for the pain."

Reid allowed his mind to click facts together, "She got you out of the pediatrics ward, didn't she? How old do you think I am? Huh? I'm plenty old enough to think for myself. I know what you're trying to make me do hurts, A LOT, and I don't have the energy to do it yet. I get recovery plans, I've had physical therapy, but pushing me past my own limits won't help, it'll set it back. Now why don't you go convince some six year old that you'll make the shot not hurt and just leave me the hell alone?"

He smiled back at Reid then injected the needle into the line as Reid shot him daggers, "Sweet dreams."

"Bast…" Reid was out before the thought could be fully verbalized.

"Excuse me, Agent Hotchner was it? Visiting hours are over. By all means, if you're going to be quiet you can stay in here, but he should be out until at least 4 from that dose. He needs his rest, so when 4 comes around, another nurse is going to do the same thing."

He waited for a response. He knocked on the door to the bathroom. "Agent Hotchner?"

He turned his head to the side when he opened the door finding it empty. "Huh, I was sure he was in there too. Maybe he did leave already." The nurse left, dimming the light and closing the door to the room completely.

About thirty seconds later, Hotch slipped out from behind the bathroom door. He sat in the chair next to Reid, "So I have until 4AM before I have to hide again?" He kissed Reid's forehead and just thought about how this would be the first time he'd actually get to watch Reid sleep in a real bed versus those too-short couches on the jet Reid would often curl up onto.

TBC.


	9. Pure Morning

There was something to be said about watching Reid just look restful, sedated and sleeping with the gentle metronome of heart beats had allowed Hotch the reprieve of rest for four hours, and honestly that was more than enough. He'd run on less and been fully functional before.

Hotch's eyes opened in one felled motion as the sound of heels clicking registered. He stood up and entered the wash-room scrubbing his face in time to hear the door click open, light spilled from the crack under the door as the nurse turned the light on.

"Mr. Hotchner, you might as well come out from there. I already spotted you on my first set of rounds." The nurse announced before setting a coffee in the room on a table. She looked back to her ward.

He was still asleep, she crinkled her nose attempting to rouse a response from him. "Spencer, good morning, time to wake up…" She shook his shoulder gently and found no resistance to her prodding. "Oh come on, you can't be that bad of a morning-person…" She said in a goading tone hoping to get him to move, or show even a slight improvement in level of consciousness.

She was met with the same relaxing metronome Hotch had slept to. She nodded at him as he exited the bathroom, indicating the coffee. "Help yourself those chairs are hardly comfortable."

"Thanks."

"Spencer, come on, I need you to wake up for a bit." She attempted.

"What time is it?"

"It's 4 in the morning. You will need to leave before the head-nurse does her rounds, she's quite unforgiving and a bit of a prickly sourpuss. I think she's forgotten what it's like to have family, personally." The conversation carried on as the nurse continued to shake Reid attempting to rouse him.

The nurse muttered something pulling a stiff pin from her dress-collar. "I can't believe I'm actually using this technique… I always made fun of my professor about this." She said before jabbing the thing into Reid's finger. When he didn't jerk back reflexively or make any signs of waking up, she leaned back. "…Oh this is bad."

"What's going on?" Aaron said, coffee placed firmly onto the table as he approached.

"He's not responsive."

"I've had the occasion through work to room with him, he can sleep like the dead when he's exhausted…"

"…While I appreciate that metaphor, the only people who don't physically react to a pin-stab are either dead, have paralysis or have been over-medicated to induce a form of paralysis, none of these categories should fit your coworker here. You have to leave _now_."

"Wait, over-medicated? What do you mean?"

"He's supposed to be on muscle relaxers and sedatives, there are some types of pain medication that numbs nerves and act as agents of paralysis, but as I said, he's not supposed to be in that category."

"The nurse who was in here before gave him something to sedate him, in addition to his IVs."

"When?" The heavy-set woman with dark brown hair flipped through the chart.

"A little after 11, he had said he should be out until at least 4."

Her eyes narrowed, "There's nothing on his charts that he should be given with that long of a half-life. What the hell dosage did he give him… and of what…" She asked herself aloud, "Sir, you really do have to leave. I have to get to the bottom of this and call other nurses in."

"Is he going to be alright?" Aaron hated that his voice sounded as emotional as it did, he usually lived by a very strict edict of stoicism to not tip his hand.

"Right now, I don't know what he was given, how much, or how it's interacting with his other medications. I can't answer it… but, you're on his emergency contact list I presume?"

"Yes. Aaron Hotchner…"

"I'll personally call and update when I know anything. But you have to go, now." She emphasized that with a thrust of the call button.

Hotch did the only presented option to him, he slid from the room, down the hall, and to the cafeteria with vending machines and sat down hard. He took out his cell phone and waited to hear it ring.

This was not what he was thinking 4 AM was going to be like. He glared for a moment trying to recall what that damned nurse's name was. At that moment he wished he could remember his name. If he had Reid's eidetic memory or Prentiss's sex-drive he might have been able to recall the name-tag. Instead, he sat there using his eyes to put holes into the table as he willed himself to remember the important detail.

What had he given Reid? He had said it was something to make him sleep… he wasn't some angel of death, was he? Or worse, just an idiot who didn't know what he was doing with drug-cocktails… Well, alright maybe that wasn't worse, the situation as it presented was bad enough before launching into what-ifs.

He took a steadying breath, Reid had to be okay, he didn't have another choice. Hotch refused to give him a different option.

For over an hour Hotch stared at the table and his phone rested squarely between his fists, which rested on the table.

A low buzz brought him immediately from his thoughts as the clock informed him he'd have to head into the office soon.

"Hotchner here."

"Um, Aaron, hi, I told you I'd call to update you… Spencer just woke up a few minutes ago."

"Oh thank god… what happened? What was it? I'll be right there."

"That's not necessary, he's still groggy…"

"I'm sitting in the cafeteria, I'll be up in one minute. You can time me." He hung up to the sound of disbelief slipping out as a gasp.

He knew she was turning her wheels to realize the very real difference between friend, boss, and what THIS was. True to his word, he was at Spencer's room with 3 seconds to spare. She gave him a dark look.

"I thought I told you to go home."

"You told me to leave, and I did, and now I've come back. What happened and can I see him?"

She nodded, "As I said over the phone, he's groggy. His blood-work came back in, he was given an unknown amount of benzodiazepine which he OD'ed on, we gave him flumazenil once we figured out what he was given, and he started to respond fairly quickly."

"Wait, over-dose…"

"He was in a coma for the past five hours. I mentioned that he's groggy, but that's not half of it, he's confused and probably has anterograde amnesia, which should dissipate with the effect of the drugs."

"Oh my god…"

"…This could have been fatal, and there was no reason to give him such a high dosage of diazepam. If you hadn't told me about the injection we wouldn't have known to look. Your actions probably saved his life."

"Can I go in? I need to see him. He doesn't know what happened, does he?"

"He still isn't fully aware, so we haven't discussed this development with him just yet." The nurse confirmed. "Diazepam isn't something we _don't_ give patients with anxiety, however we are unsure how he came to have such a high level. It may have been accidental, we are investigating though."

"Has something like this ever happened here before?"

The woman shook her head, "I'm hardly at liberty to say. I've already said far too much." She brought the file to her mouth, "Which of course, you won't mention when you go digging, I presume."

Hotch gave a stiff nod.

"I'll be checking in on him on the half-hour mark to give him more flumazenil." She pushed the door open. "Then by all means, check on your _subordinate_." Her tone all but screamed a much different word, Hotch nodded stiffly once more before going in, she closed the door with a click.

"Spencer-!"

Reid rubbed his head, "Hotch…? When did you get back?"

"Just now…"

"When did Morgan leave? And why do I have that sand-bag feeling…" He muttered more under his breath.

"Morgan left when I came back." Hotch started. He could see Reid staring at the flowers in the room. Hotch sat down in the chair next to Reid's bed. "You just scared the crap out of me."

"How's that?"

"You went into a coma. There was a medication mix-up, you received too much of something."

"…You mean I over-dosed on something?" Reid clarified still staring at the plants.

"On diazepam, apparently."

"How did that happen?"

"The nurse must have given you too large of a dosage, you're taking this calmer than I expected… Reid?"

"What are you talking about? You mean one of my IV bags is for diazepam?"

"No, you were given an injection, around 11."

"While I was in surgery?" Reid looked at Hotch daftly, "But I came out just fine…"

"11 PM, not AM."

"What time is it?"

"6 AM."

"…I'm just coming out of surgery now?"

"No, Reid, you… you've been out of surgery for over 18 hours."

Reid stared at the ceiling, "How can that be?"

Hotch paused, this was probably a clear example of 'confusion' with some 'amnesia' in it to boot. Just like the nurse- Carol- had spoken of.

"Hotch… where did Morgan go? Did you know Rossi brought purple flowers?"

"He knows purple is your favorite color."

"Really? How? I never mentioned that…"

"…Not many adult men wear purple unless they like the color, Reid."

That seemed to silence him for a few minutes. "Did you know purple flowers are the symbol of success and luxury?"

Hotch smiled, "I think you're overthinking this. Dave's knowledge of the flower world consists of roses for weddings, lilies for funerals, expensive for apologies, and purple for you."

Reid nodded, "That's plausible. You said it was 6…?"

"Yes."

He nodded for a few moments, "Why are you up so early on a Saturday? This isn't really your routine is it? I mean staying up late, seducing me with poetry, then being fully functional at 6AM…"

"You remember that I read poetry to you?"

"No, you memorized it, you didn't read it." Reid smiled and blushed at that. "…That did happen, right?" His brow furrowed, "It's hard to think of when that would've happened, I mean… Morgan was here just before so…"

Hotch smiled and ruffled Reid's hair, "Spence, Morgan left around 10. I read poetry to you around 10:30, you were out of it from 11 until 5, and now we're talking and it's a little after 6."

He nodded, Hotch was sure he'd have to repeat the timeline again.

"And that would mean the GQ nurse stabbed me with a needle around 11… right? Ugh, yeah he was trying to force me to drink water or sleep, and I didn't want to do either."

"Spence, what was his name anyway?"

"Hi I'm Greg smiley-face icon, according to his name-badge. I don't think that's how he files his taxes though. God I hope not at least."

Hotch put a hand on Reid's shoulder. "Greg, good to know. Greg isn't allowed back in here."

"Agreed. Why though?"

"Do you remember how I said you were out of it for a few hours?"

Reid closed his eyes and pouted for a moment, "You did… didn't you? I feel really tired."

Hotch gave him a measuring look, almost certain that sleep was on the end of the list of things Reid should be doing at the moment.

Just as he was about to voice that concern, the door opened and Carol came in with a vial and capped needle. "Good morning there, how are you doing Spencer?"

"Do I know you?"

Carol smiled, "Oh you wound me, forgetting about such a beautiful lady as myself, but with that to compare to, I can understand." She gave Hotch a look, "I'm your nurse Carol, how are you feeling?"

"Exhausted, thirsty, and my stomach hurts."

"I see, alright let's first fix number one, then we can work on two, three is just a bit of a consequence of the surgery though. You can put up with it for now, right Spencer?"

He nodded.

She injected his line with a copious amount of flumazenil. "Would you like to try some water?"

He nodded once, Carol went to the side table and pulled over a cup, straw, and pitcher of water. She filled the glass an eighth the way up and rested the straw inside it. "Slow sips, and when I come back next we'll try the same amount again."

"Alright." He took three small sips before finishing off the glass of water, Carol fiddled with his lines before patting his hand and leaving. "I like her, I don't want another nurse. She'll come back, right?"

Aaron smiled, "I'll make sure she's yours for the rest of her shift. And I'll have her hand-pick her replacement, how does that sound?"

"Perfect, and planned down to the finest of details. I knew I loved you for good reasons."

TBC.


End file.
